


Light the Sky

by DoreyG



Category: Heat (1995)
Genre: Alley Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Kissing, M/M, Mid-Canon, Rough Kissing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "Hey," McCauley says, as he's finishing off his coffee, "can you make sure that we're not watched for the next, oh, half an hour?"





	Light the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saturni_stellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturni_stellis/gifts).



"Hey," McCauley says, as he's finishing off his coffee, "can you make sure that we're not watched for the next, oh, half an hour?"

He stares incredulously for a long moment, unsure what exactly McCauley expected his reaction to be to such a blatant play. But then... Something shifts, something changes between them and sets the air thrumming. Maybe something as small as him noticing the look in McCauley's eye, "we, as in-?"

"I thought you were meant to be the best detective in this town," McCauley says, seeming genuinely amused. Creases appear around his eyes, his mouth lifts up into the smallest smirk, "we, as in _us_. Can you make sure that we're completely alone for the next thirty minutes or not?"

"Yeah," he says, feeling a sensation both familiar and new pooling in his stomach at the change in the man's expression, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can manage that. I _am_ the best detective in this whole stinking town, after all."

"Good," McCauley says, quite simply, and tosses some money on the table as he rises. A quick glance shows that it's about twenty dollars more than the coffee cost, and about twenty two dollars more than it was worth. 

"You sure that thirty minutes will be enough?" He asks, tickled by that. Nice to know that he's not the only one feeling this fascination, nicer to know that _somebody_ actually wants him. He considers the money on the table for a moment, and then shrugs and adds his own two dollars. No need to be stingy.

By that point McCauley has already vanished through the doors of the diner, with only a small snort that could charitably be called a laugh. He's aware, as he rises from the table himself, that he could just walk out at this point - could stick to the plan, and return to the station without exploring _any_ of this shit. Return to an ordinary life, barbecues and ballgames and not a single person in the whole lousy world actually capable of understanding him.

He follows McCauley out of the diner instead.

The man doesn't strike him as an exhibitionist, at least not in more personal matters, so he walks around to the far side of the diner on a hunch. Finds the man standing there as expected, staring into space with a thoughtful expression. Like he's wondering just why the fuck the night has taken this turn too.

The man's eyes snap up, when he pointedly clears his throat. They look at each other for a long moment, staring deeper into each other's eyes than he did with Justine on their fucking wedding day, and then simultaneously decide that no thought is needed in this situation. McCauley's lips lift into that little smirk again, he takes a careful step closer as if measuring his reaction, "no surveillance?"

"I was the only surveillance on you," he says, and smiles his cockiest smile. It's impossible to miss, how McCauley's eyes get that little bit hungrier at the sight, "super cop, remember? Didn't think I needed anybody else."

"I was never expecting to come up against a romantic, when I started all of this," McCauley says consideringly, and takes another slow step closer. Watches his reactions all the while, a slowly building heat simmering in his eyes, "guess even I can be surprised, once in a while. At least it's actually a pleasant one, for once."

He opens his mouth to respond, amused by how they share pretty much exactly the same sentiment, and that's when McCauley makes his move. Takes the final few steps over to him at a startling speed, grabs him by the shirt and slams him back against the wall.

He tenses for a moment, it's hard not to when you spend the vast majority of your days at risk of getting bludgeoned by _something_ , but McCauley kisses him the very next moment and it's hard to hold onto any tension after that. The man is a very good kisser, a very _dominant_ kisser. He pins him back against the wall, nips at his lips and devours his mouth with a focus that goes straight to his cock.

The thing is, the thing he hasn't told _anybody_ because how is a big bad cop supposed to say such a thing, is that he's always had a kind of a hankering to be dominated. Fuck being on top, _fuck_ being in control. A hidden, needy part of him has always kinda wanted to be pinned down and made to submit.

And now, with McCauley's tongue in his mouth, he's finally been handed the chance to do that on a fucking platter. He groans, helplessly, and throws his arms tightly around the man's neck. Slides his fingers into the short hair of his nape, and meets the kiss with equal enthusiasm. Suddenly it's like a switch has been flipped for both of them, like they've discovered what the fuck they're actually supposed to be _doing_ with their lives.

McCauley shoves him even harder against the wall, fucks his mouth with his tongue with a single minded determination. He melts under the onslaught, slumps submissively back against the wall and desperately grinds his groin up against McCauley's leg to show his appreciation. He feels so hot that it's like he's on fire, like nothing else exists in the world besides the two of them.

McCauley is the one to draw away first, because of course he is. He stares down at him for a long moment, expression approving and eyes dark, before he seems to remember that he can't communicate telepathically, "we have thirty minutes."

"I know," he says breathlessly, and summons up his most charming smile. The one that has somehow managed to net him three marriages, before they look beyond the smile and discover his numerous other flaws, "we could stretch it."

"We have thirty minutes," McCauley repeats levelly, looking faintly unimpressed. If it wasn't for the sparkle of amusement in his eyes, and the way he _ravaged_ his mouth just a few moments earlier, he could almost be tricked into thinking that this was some form of charity for him, "I don't have time to be tender with you today, pretty boy."

"Then don't-" He starts to say, eager, but McCauley is already several steps ahead of him. He's lowered his hands, those deliciously thieving hands, to his fly and is busy undoing it without too much patience. He's pretty sure that he hears the button pop off, as McCauley determinedly rips it open.

Well, never say that he can't take direction. Even if he's rarely given the opportunity to do so, people generally expecting cops to be quick with the handcuffs and enthusiastic about the topping. He wriggles out of his shoes quickly, so quickly that he's pretty sure he leaves grazes around his ankles. Is pleased, not to mention a little smug, when his pants drop down to his ankles without encountering a single bit of resistance along the way.

When he looks up again, after stepping out of them smartly, it's to find McCauley looking at him with that strange respect in his eyes. It's intoxicating, he's never had anybody look at him and actually _see_ him before. He can't help himself, he arches up for another kiss. Like he needs it, like he's going to become addicted to it like cocaine.

McCauley allows this for a long moment, seeming amused, and then pushes him brusquely back against the wall. They stare at each other close up for a second, both panting from the force of the connection between them, and then McCauley gives another one of his smirks and slips fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. In the next moment they're off and he's completely exposed, half naked in an alleyway with the criminal he's trying to catch.

"Turn around," McCauley orders, low and level in the tone of a man who knows that he's going to be obeyed. And who is he, to disabuse the guy of the notion? He turns around, and eagerly spreads his legs. The next moment he hears the pop of a cap, of _course_ McCauley would be prepared, and feels a slick finger sliding between his legs.

McCauley doesn't hang around, just like he promised. Without a moment of hesitation the finger pushes into him, an invasion that he finds himself melting even further under. McCauley pumps it for a long moment, seemingly learning his body and how it reacts in this sort of situation. He can feel the man's eyes on the back of his neck, drilling into his skin with a focus so acute that it feels like a caress.

It's not long before a second finger is added, getting even deeper into him. He bites his lip, helpless underneath the surge of sensation, and McCauley seems to somehow sense that too. He moves his hand even more surely, stretches him until his knees downright shake from the attention.

The third finger is added only briefly, only to test if he's fully ready. He feels it brush up against his prostrate briefly, a surge of sensation that sends his hips bucking forward with no conscious input from himself, and then McCauley removes everything from his body. Still dazed from the arousal, his cock now hard and dripping between his legs, he can only give a soft sound akin to a whimper in response.

He expects McCauley to keep him like this, to fuck him in this position at leisure, but he's surprised yet again. Before he can do more than give a faintly dizzy blink the man's hand is firm on his arm, and he's being spun around again. They stare at each other for a long moment, reading the arousal in each other's eyes with interest, and then McCauley gives the smallest shrug and lifts him up against the wall.

He's not used to being the one lifted, again: police officer, but he finds that he likes it so much that his cock jumps against McCauley's still clothed stomach. The man is still almost fully dressed, only his cock out and hard and _ready_. McCauley makes sure that they're firmly settled against the brick, unlikely to fall over halfway through proceedings or anything like that, and then slowly starts to push in.

The pressure is incredible, almost uncomfortable at first. He's done this before, but that was years before he started marrying women and his body has half forgotten how it goes. He grits his teeth, forces himself to get through it anyway. It's all worth it, a thousand times worse than this would be worth it, to be here with McCauley inside him.

McCauley said that he wouldn't be gentle, he practically promised it with sincere eyes, but when it comes down to it he doesn't seem able to stop himself. He goes slowly, carefully. Eases him down onto his cock, and watches the expressions on his face all the time. The man seems to get, that it's been a fair while for him. Fuck, maybe it's been a fair while for McCauley too.

The man waits until he eases a little, before he gets all the way inside him. Waits even longer to move, still watching his face, until he makes a urgent noise and digs his fingernails into the back of his neck. Then he obviously assumes that they still understand each other, and acts as surely as he ever has.

The first thrust sends him up the wall. The back of his suit scraping the stone, probably picking up any number of scuff marks that Justine will doubtlessly pointedly refuse to notice. He gasps at the surge of sensation, digs his nails even harder into the back of McCauley's neck and tilts his head down for a savage kiss.

McCauley indulges him, though seems to be indulging himself at the same time. The man wraps his legs around his waist, keeps his thumbs digging into his thighs until he's got the message to keep them there. And then he moves his hands up, digs them into his hips until he's sure that he's going to have bruises in the morning. All the way through he kisses him roughly, with a desperation that he's sure he'll remember long after this is done.

Already this is savage, almost frantic. He's slept with many people before this, is sure that he'll sleep with many people after, but he's sure this is something singular. Unique.

He teasingly nips at McCauley's lips, drags his teeth along the edge of the man's beard. They're both affected by this, as much as the man is - admirably, don't get him wrong - trying not to show it. He can feel the faintly stunned eagerness in McCauley's kiss, can feel the heat coming off his skin and can feel the shudder of his body every time he thrusts. He can feel the pleasure building steadily between them, impossible and irresistible.

McCauley obviously decides that he's thinking too much, another thing that he can't really fault him for. He adjusts his position just slightly, subtly enough that he doesn't notice that the man's doing it, and then slides firmly back in. He feels his prostrate being hit again, hard and certain, and can't help himself from crying out at the sensation of it. He feels McCauley smile against his cheek, and then the man thrusts again and he abandons any attempt at logic.

Logic, after all, is underrated between two such as them. The hunter and the hunted, the prey and the predator, the unstoppable force and the immovable object. What need do they have, for anything so ordinary?

He can't stop himself from writhing on McCauley's cock now, unhinged by the onslaught of pleasure moving through him. Every single thrust brings a new surge of it, every single movement a new level of bliss. His back keeps rubbing against the filthy wall, and he barely notices it. His cock rubs against McCauley's shirt with every thrust, and he notices it only a little more. Nothing really seems to matter, not when they're like this.

McCauley seems to agree, seems to be shuddering apart just as surely as he is. His breath has become laboured, his body shakes even more than before. When he, barely, gains the presence of mind to glance at the man's face he finds his eyes closed and his lips pursed hard together. He can't resist leaning down to kiss him again, to learn his mouth just as surely as they've learned everything else about each other.

They move together for a long moment more, desperate and needy. He's making noises that he can't even control, groaning like some whore going for the jackpot. McCauley is downright shuddering underneath him, thrusting sloppily like he just can't control himself.

_And_...

He's the first one to come, which is probably the least surprising news of the century. He makes a noise like a dying animal, and spends himself all over the front of McCauley's shirt. He's probably ruined it, but he can't quite bring himself to care at the moment. The world goes white and blissful, and for a long few seconds absolutely nothing at all matters.

McCauley, slightly more surprisingly, comes only a few moments after him. He doesn't make any noise at all, doesn't even grunt. He only buries his head in his neck, gives a final hard thrust and then a desperate shudder. He feels the man's cock pulse within him, within the condom, once and then that's that. He expects an immediate drawing back, an immediate re-establishment of boundaries, but instead McCauley only remains with his head bowed and his lips warm against his neck.

They stand like that for a long few moments. Panting and weak, wrapped together in a shitty alleyway and trying their very hardest to ignore the rest of the world.

When McCauley finally pulls away it feels like a loss, though he tries his very hardest not to show it. The man pulls out of him, in one sharp movement, and steps back with a thoughtful look in his eyes. They watch each other for a long moment, and then McCauley lets out a breath of laughter and disposes of the condom. He tidies himself up briskly after that, tucking himself away with a rather impressive amount of speed.

"McCauley," he only brings himself to speak when the man turns away, starts heading for the mouth of the alleyway like he's not even going to kiss him goodbye, "I'm still going to catch you, you know."

There's a moment, where he thinks that McCauley is just going to ignore him and continue to leave. But then the man lets out another breath of laughter, and turns back to him. Before he knows it he's being dragged in again, kissed firmly on the mouth in a way that he can't help but helplessly submit to.

"I'm not foolish enough to think that anything as simple as a good fuck will change that, pretty boy," McCauley says, when they part for air, and smirks almost fondly at him. In the next moment he's turned away again, is sauntering back towards the mouth of the alley with a certain light smugness to his step, "I'll see you around."

"Count on it," he yells at the man's back, and smiles foolishly to himself for a moment before he bends to pick up his boxers and start his own clean up.

Never has a half hour been so good.


End file.
